


Other Half

by End_Transmission



Series: Halloween Colors [1]
Category: Among Us (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-24
Packaged: 2021-03-08 04:55:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 17,378
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26860081
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/End_Transmission/pseuds/End_Transmission
Summary: Skitch - an Impostor known as 'Black' to his crewmates - has a simple, if suicidal, mission. Work with his Impostor crewmate. Take out the humans. Take out the ship. Protect his home and his family from a leech-like group of galaxy interlopers. All that he's ever been taught tells him humans aren't worth his time, or his pity.In the face of Orange's kindness, it's a difficult lesson to remember.
Relationships: Black & Cyan (Among Us), Black/Orange (Among Us)
Series: Halloween Colors [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1983761
Comments: 146
Kudos: 339





	1. Ascension

With a grimace, the Impostor known as Skitch closed his eyes, gripped his chair, and did his best to ride out the bumpy ascent through Earth’s atmosphere. He couldn’t help but notice, even as his eyes squeezed shut, that his companion - an Impostor named Trep - seemed completely nonplussed. Trep sat in his own seat, cyan-gloved hands resting lightly on his thighs, and even through his opaque helmet mask, Skitch was sure he could feel the other smirking. 

It was a relief to block that out, too. 

The reactions of the humans around them formed something of a continuum between them. Some humans gripped tight like Skitch and seemed just as eager as him for the ride to end. A few others laughed, even cheered, as if they were having the time of their lives. Most seemed somewhere in between - quiet and unsure and waiting. 

The human sitting directly next to Skitch - a man he knew only as ‘Orange’ - put a hand on Skitch’s shoulder and squeezed. It was a gesture unfamiliar to Skitch, but he knew it was meant to be comforting. He blinked his eyes open and looked towards Orange, then shrugged his shoulder - the human immediately pulled his hand away. Orange didn't look away, though - but through their helmets, Skitch couldn't even begin to guess the emotion behind the gaze. 

Anger at the rebuttal, maybe. Humans were an angry species, after all - at least, that's what Skitch had been taught. For as long as the Imposters had known of humans, they’d spoken only of the humans’ greed, and cruelty, and their endless drive to claim all corners of the galaxy for their own. That very greed was the reason Skitch and Trep were even aboard this ship. It was why they’d ended up on Earth, why they’d become part of this crew, and why they were now both hurtling into space on a suicide mission. 

Humans as a species had made themselves known to the Impostors ten years prior, when a human ship had landed on a planet that neighbored the Impostors’ own. The Impostors had kept their distance, had watched and listened and waited. More and more humans had come to that planet over the course of five years - and when they finally left, moving away as a giant herd, they’d left the planet a shell of what it’d once been. The Impostors had learned from a small handful of native survivors - who had managed to escape aboard a ship that brought them to the Impostors’ home - that the humans had all but drained the planet dry of its resources. When the planet had begun destroying itself, the humans had fled. 

The Impostors, certain the humans would one day return to their quadrant of space, had decided then and there that they would do whatever it took to prevent the same fate from befalling their planet. They had gathered volunteers - members of their society who were willing to put their lives on the line for the safety of their home and families - and had started training them. Impostors as a people were talented shapeshifters - and it was common for an Impostor to find one or two more innate talents as they aged. Trep and Skitch had stood out among their classmates for a shared talent - an almost supernatural ability for learning languages. Trep was fluent in nearly every human language the Impostors had been able to trace. Skitch, meanwhile, could understand nearly as many - and had, given his muteness, learned upwards of two-hundred different human sign languages. 

Skitch also had an aptitude for trade skills - an innate understanding of the workings of things like electronics, life-support systems, and mechanics. Trep, meanwhile, had proven himself time and time again to be an adept leader. All things considered, the Authority had decided that Skitch and Trep were the perfect pair to send into the lion’s den. When a human ship had been spotted orbiting their general quadrant, the Impostors had known that it was time to act. Skitch and Trep had been sent to Earth and had been given instructions and connections that had allowed them to determine the departments responsible for the human’s exploration. Slowly but surely, the two Impostors had interjected themselves into a human team. They, and eight other human crewmates, had boarded the ship known as the Skeld, and had been blasted into the stars.

For the humans, the mission was simple - to scout the stars, determine if there was life or resources to be found, and then return home and report back. Perhaps gather some resources for sampling, if it could be done safely. 

The Impostors, meanwhile, had to put an end to the human mission. Not a simple end, though. Their actions needed to indicate to the humans back on Earth that this was a quadrant to be avoided at all costs. Every human on the ship had to die - and the ship itself had to be destroyed. It had to be slow, and insidious - the Impostors _wanted_ the humans below to understand that it wasn’t a fluke or an accident.

If Skitch were honest with himself, he'd never considered himself a killer. All the same, volunteering and then accepting the mission had been a no-brainer. After all, Skitch had a mother, and a sister, and a whole _planet_ counting on him and Trep to succeed. And although Skitch would never see any of them again, he knew he couldn’t let them down. 

“You doing okay, bud?” Orange asked suddenly, and, pulled abruptly from his thoughts, Skitch focused his attention back on the human. “The trip's always kind of rough,” Orange continued, a strange sort of pity in his voice that was somehow inoffensive. “It’ll be over before you know it, though. Once we even out, you’ll feel a lot better. Just hold in there, okay?”

All Skitch could think to do was nod. Skitch had been taught over and over again that the humans were cruel. Greedy. Yet, here he was, face to face with an aspect he’d been taught was absent entirely from humanity - empathy. He looked away from Orange and did his best to put it out of his mind. No doubt the human would be far less sympathetic if he knew what Skitch was. The humans would turn on Skitch and Trep without an ounce of reason, given the chance. 

There was no reason for Skitch to offer them any sympathy in return. 

* * *

"We've established just two rules for this mission." Red, the Captain of the Skeld, was pacing back and forth in front of the rest of the crewmates. The ship had evened out, even as Orange had said, and the crew had been released from their seats. The ship was officially on its planned trajectory - and would be within the Impostor quadrant by the week's end. Skitch stood among the crew, a few humans down from Trep, and watched as the captain continued to speak. 

"Rule number one," Red went on, "every day, each of you will be given a series of tasks to carry out. These are of upmost importance - this may be strictly an investigative mission, but we still need to keep the Skeld in tip-top performance. Rusted systems or unresolved issues could prevent us from returning home. Or making a quick escape should it become necessary. Once your daily jobs are finished, I don't much care what you do with your time, so long as you keep an ear on your comms in case of emergencies. Understood?" Red asked, and the crew responded in the affirmative before he'd even finished. 

"Great. The second rule is that, as much as possible, everyone is to stay with their buddy." Red paused at a small ripple of laughter among the crew. His tense silence smothered it quickly. "You laugh," Red continued, "but I'll remind you that we will be dealing with various mechanical systems and chemicals every day. Heaven forbid you're electrocuted and alone. Or caught arm-deep in a machine. Or - well. Use your imagination." He paused again, then finally relented with a chuckle. "I'm not assigning you buddies, though. You're adults - you can figure that out. Speaking of - Cyan," Red looked over at Trep, who stood a little straighter at the human's attention, "I'd like you to be my working partner, if you would."

Skitch could feel Trep's predatory smile, even from a distance. How the humans seemed to miss the strain on the atmosphere, Skitch wasn't sure. Trep stood at attention and saluted almost immediately. 

"Of course Captain," Trep answered smoothly, "I'd be happy to help."

"Any questions? No? If anything comes up, you can reach me on comms. We'll have meetings every morning at 0800. Remember we are a team, folks. Dismissed." With that Red turned and began to walk away, Trep trailing in his wake. Skitch turned slightly in place to watch them go, a pit of nerves in his gut. Would Trep strike so soon? Would he go right for the head? Surely if the Captain turned up dead while Trep was his partner, the humans would immediately suspect - 

"Hello? Earth to Black?" A finger pressing into his arm startled Skitch out of his thoughts. Half a second later, he remembered that _he_ was 'Black,' and that someone had been calling his name. He turned in place to find Orange standing next to him. As soon as he had Skitch's attention, Orange pulled his hand away. 

"Wanna be buddies?" Orange asked and, surprised, Skitch lifted a hand and pointed at himself. "I didn't spend all that time trying to get your attention, just to be talking to someone else," Orange responded, his voice halfway to a laugh. Curious, Skitch looked around - the rest of the crewmates were beginning to mingle, a couple having already wandered off in pairs. 

"No one would object to a trio if you'd rather join in with the others," Orange said. Skitch looked to the man again, catching the way Orange's voice seemed to drop, just a little bit. It took Skitch an awkward couple of seconds to understand why, but once he did he was quick to shake his head and lift his hands to respond. 

"I was just curious what everyone else was doing," Skitch said, his gloves catching slightly as his fingers moved, "but if you want to be -" he paused briefly with a mental grimace, then continued, "buddies, then that's fine with me."

"Oh - great!" Orange said, and the sudden cheer flooding back into his demeanor bemused Skitch. The man held out his hand - a gesture Skitch had quickly grown familiar with during his small time on earth. "I look forward to working with you, buddy!" 

"Likewise," Skitch responded, before reaching to take Orange's hand and giving it a shake. Although Skitch's thoughts had immediately gone towards his own mission and how he might start accomplishing it, the handshake derailed those thoughts entirely. 

He hadn't expected Orange's hand to be so _warm._


	2. Equilibrium

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first day on the Skeld comes and goes. By the end of it, Skitch's world has already twisted beyond recognition.

Early in the first day of their orbit, Skitch was pulled from his restful thoughts by the sound of talking. It took him a moment to ground himself - when he realized it'd barely gone past 0400, he wondered who on earth would be awake at the hour. Trep was lounging on his own bunk not far from Skitch's, and as far as the Impostor was aware, they were the only two who didn't need sleep. Noting his attention, Trep looked over at Skitch and flipped his hand, as if to ask what was wrong. Skitch shook his head and slipped from his cot. He could feel Trep's eyes on him as he left Crewmate Quarters #1, but the other Impostor made no move to follow. 

Skitch followed the voices, winding around the halls of the Skeld until finally arriving at the Communications bay. There, sitting across the room from each other at the two respective computers, were Orange and Pink. Neither human noticed Skitch, so caught up were they in their discussions. On the computer screens were more humans. Two small human children were pushing each other about on Pink's screen, clearly vying for their attention. Another adult, who looked exasperated even to Skitch, was laughing behind them. 

Orange's screen was taken up by one, singular child. His hair was nearly as vibrant as Orange's suit, and he had a piece of paper held up by his face - Skitch could see it was some kind of drawing. He was pointing at it, his mouth moving excitedly, while Orange nodded along, occasionally letting out a 'wow!' or 'wait, wait, tell me more about that.'

"I love you guys. To the moon and back, right?" Distracted, Skitch looked back to Pink, who was waving to what he could only assume was their family. The responding chorus of "We love you too," was loud enough that Skitch could hear it even past Pink's private communication earpiece. Pink tapped a button on the screen, and even after the screen went dark they continued to wave. Once they'd finally lowered their hand, they turned in their chair, and promptly let out a scream that startled even Skitch. 

"Jesus Christ, Black!" Pink exclaimed, putting their hand over their chest. Orange had turned in his chair too, and was looking in their direction - although what expression he might be wearing, Skitch couldn't begin to guess. "Why are you just _standing_ there like that?" Pink continued. 

"Apologies," Skitch responded, "I didn't want to interrupt."

"Would have preferred it. Jesus," Pink muttered, getting up from their seat, "I'm done, by the way, if you were looking to use a computer. Or, shit, did we wake you?" 

"I was already awake," Skitch responded, "no one else seemed bothered. I just came to see what was going on."

"The timing's all off," Orange answered, "it's evening at home, and the best time to get to talk to our families. Hey, Black, c'mere." Skitch gave a brief wave to Pink as they left the room, then walked over to where Orange was sitting. Skitch went still when Orange snagged his suit and pulled him down closer to the screen. 

"Toby, this is Black! He and I are task buddies - we help each other out finishing our jobs every day. Black, this is my son, Toby. He's still learning and a little rough, but he should be able to understand you. Toby, Black uses sign-language to talk. Do you remember your lessons?"

"Yes!" Toby responded, signing the word as he spoke. He and Orange went quiet, and Orange turned his helmet slightly to look at Skitch. The Impostor hesitated - he wanted to go back to his cot. He wanted to pretend he hadn't seen the two crewmates' families. He didn't want to talk to the child. 

"C'mon Black, I promise he won't bite," Orange said, jostling Skitch gently with an elbow. After another second of hesitation, Skitch finally responded. 

"Hi, Toby."

"You're helping my dad? What's it like in space? Have you been a spaceman long? Do you have any kids? Do you -" As Toby kept the questions up, some easier to understand than others, Orange pushed away in order to fetch the other chair. He pushed it towards Skitch in offering, and the Impostor felt like he had little choice but to take it. He sat, and did his best to answer Toby's questions - difficult when they never seemed to end. 

It was…endearing, if he were honest. In a way, Toby's child-like curiosity was little different than the curiosity of Impostor children. His cheer was almost infectious, and Skitch hardly noticed when his discomfort faded away. When they had to say goodbye, Skitch felt a little disappointed - but it faded as the screen went black. With a jolt, it was as if he suddenly returned to himself - all at once acutely aware of what he'd just done. 

"Oh, uh, bye! See you in a couple of hours!" Orange called as Skitch practically leapt to his feet, turned, and left the room. In his hurry, he barely managed to throw up a goodbye wave - only thankful that, when they met for their tasks a few hours later, Orange didn't mention Skitch's hasty retreat. 

* * *

Skitch stared down at the MRE in his hands. He knew how awkward he must look, simply looking down at the unassuming brown bag while the others were already eating around the table. He'd run into two issues at once, though, and he was scrambling to figure out a solution. He grabbed the tab of the MRE and pulled it open. Some sort of progress, at least. 

The MRE he'd been handed was vegetarian - he could process the peanut butter and cashews, but they alone would not do much to sate him. He needed meat-based protein - and the vegetables, starches, and sauces were likely to make him sick. Not to mention, the humans might grow wary of him, if they saw him being so picky with their carefully rationed meals. 

Of course, they'd be _considerably_ more concerned if they actually saw him eat. Skitch had one major weakness - a flaw in his shape-shifting ability that was so minor he had not considered the problem it'd create until that very moment. He could shift every bit of himself, just like the rest of his people - except for his teeth. His teeth, which were _incredibly obvious_ rows of sharp canines _._ They might shift in size to accommodate his chosen form in any moment, but they changed little otherwise. Humans, of course, did not have rows of serrated teeth. To eat, Skitch would have to remove his helmet. They'd all see his teeth, the mission would end where it began, he'd be ejected to the vast coldness of space, where he'd float until his body imploded -

Movement across the table caught his eye. Trep had leaned closer to Red, and was murmuring something low enough Skitch couldn't hear it. When he saw both of them look in his direction, Skitch knew they were talking about him. He waited with baited breath, wondering if Trep were helping or harming his reputation. 

"Black, you've a moment?" Red asked, getting to his feet. Knowing it was less a suggestion and more a gentle command, Skitch stood as well and followed the captain to a corner of the room, well out of audible range of the crew. 

"Cyan mentioned you have some…eating anxiety," Red said, lifting a gloved hand to rub at his neck, "it's not my place to pry or anything but, look, it's important you eat, right? The crew has to stay in shape. If it's more comfortable for you, you're welcome to take your meals in your quarters."

"I don't want the others to think I'm antisocial," Skitch responded, although at the offer the twist of anxiety in his gut had eased some. 

"If anyone gives you trouble, just let me know, and I'll put them in their place," Red said, more firmly this time, "but I wouldn't worry about it. Everyone's got their quirks, right? Between you and I, I happen to know one of the crewmates can't sleep without their childhood teddy bear. Missions are stressful, being away from home is hard - there's nothing wrong with finding comfort where you can. No reason to make things harder on yourself unnecessarily."

"Thank you, captain," Skitch said, trying hard to ignore the swell of genuine respect he felt for the human in that moment. 

"It's not a problem, Black. If not sooner, I'll see you at morning check-in." 

Recognizing the dismissal, Skitch gave a quick salute and turned away. He snatched up his MRE, and then headed away from the cafeteria and on towards the crewmates quarters. One of his problems - the most pressing, really - had been solved, although he still wasn't looking forward to a day on a hungry stomach, filled only by legumes. 

"Hey, Black!" Skitch stopped at the voice and looked over his shoulder to see Orange jogging after him. Skitch turned to face the human, trying to push back his growing frustration at being interrupted. He just wanted the time to finish his measly meal in peace. 

"Hang on, sorry, I just wanted to know - do you want to trade?" Orange asked, holding out his own open MRE. Skitch frowned and shrugged slightly in confusion. "Well, you looked kind of…disappointed in the MRE you pulled," Orange continued, "I don't mind the vegetables - kinda prefer it over the tuna, actually. So I thought, maybe we could trade?" 

Skitch stepped closer in order to read the MRE. Sure enough, it was tuna - and seemed to be lightly seasoned with lemon and pepper. Skitch would be able to eat it in full and, as a bonus, Orange's kit contained peanut butter as well. At the thought of something closer to a proper meal, Skitch's gut rumbled. He reached for the MRE, then paused, hesitating as he tried to study Orange. 

"Here," Orange said, pressing the MRE into Skitch's hand, "seriously, I'm happy to trade." Nodding, Skitch handed over his own MRE, then flashed Orange a quick thanks. "It's no problem," Orange said, "Okay, I'll leave you to your meal. Thanks, Black. Enjoy your fish." With a wave, Orange turned and headed back towards the cafeteria. Skitch watched him until he vanished, then turned his eyes to his new prize. 

Protein. He wouldn't have to wander the ship on an empty stomach, after all. He had Orange to thank for that - Orange who had, somehow, determined exactly what Skitch was thinking. All without so much as seeing the Impostor's face. Not only had he noticed, he'd decided to do something about it - and while Skitch could see that it'd benefited them both, he couldn't help but think that Orange's actions had come from a place of genuine…

Kindness.

Skitch spun on his heel and briskly made his way to his cot, forcibly shoving the thoughts out of his head. With the door shut behind him, and finally alone, Skitch ripped his helmet off and dug into his meal. He ripped at the various wrappings with his teeth, bit and tore at the tuna, and let his mind fall into a primal feeding daze. It wasn't especially satisfying, given he snapped through the tuna in two bites at most, but it did the job. He was fed and, more importantly, he'd successfully pushed all thoughts of Orange from his mind. 

The _shk_ of the door opening had Skitch looking towards the entrance, lips pressed together just in case. He wasn't surprised to see Trep, though. The cyan-suited Impostor closed the door behind him, crossed the room, and unceremoniously dropped onto Skitch's cot. 

"We'll have to manage this carefully," Trep said, gesturing at Skitch's mouth, "but no one seems bothered by it. I only worry it'll become a point of contention when things get tense."

"Doing anything to me just because I prefer to eat alone would be especially cruel," Skitch protested. 

"They're humans," was the curt response. Just like that, Skitch was thinking of Orange again. Not only him, though. Skitch also found himself thinking of Red, and his understanding of Skitch's 'quirk.' He thought of Pink - 'love you to the moon and back.' And then he was thinking of the children, and the badly seasoned tuna rolled in his gut. They were humans - but Skitch wasn't sure what those words _meant_ anymore. 

"Anyway," Trep continued, clearly unaware of Skitch's mental train wreck, "I need you to sabotage the lights. I need them out - but ideally in such a way that you aren't in Electrical when they go. Is that possible?" 

"Sure," Skitch said, shrugging, "Orange and I both have tasks there tomorrow. I'll nick a wire - but I can't make any promises about _when_ they'll go out."

"That's fine. Uncertainty is helpful."

"What's the plan?" 

"Don't worry about that," Trep answered, "I'll handle the rest, this time. The less you know, the more believable you'll be in the moment. Just follow my lead."

"Sure," Skitch said, before giving Trep a brief, two-finger salute that was more confident than he felt. Trep nodded in return, then stood to cross to his own cot, just as the door opened once more. Skitch laid back on his cot as the humans they shared the quarters with piled in, chatting as they settled in for bed. As the lights went out and the humans softened one by one into sleep, Skitch found himself a little jealous. If he could sleep like them, maybe he'd be able to get Orange and the other humans out of his mind. 

Instead, he spent all night thinking of them, and thinking of Trep's plan, and wondering over and over again what was _wrong_ with him and why he was feeling such sudden trepidation for the mission he'd been training years to carry out. 


	3. Bonding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The stakes are higher, now. For everyone.

“So, Black, you got family back home?” 

Skitch paused what he was doing to look over at his partner. Orange’s helmet was angled towards the wires in his hands, although Skitch was sure at least one of his eyes were aimed in Skitch’s direction. Skitch shrugged slightly, then set down the tablet he'd been using to scan their environment for space debris. 

“Yes,” Skitch answered honestly, nodding as he signed the word, "a mother and a sister." Before his hands had even stopped moving, Skitch felt a feeling of dread settle in the pit of his stomach. It’d been happening to him over and over again - every time Orange had started a conversation, Skitch had found himself replying easily, only thinking later that he wasn’t supposed to be so _open_ with the humans. No matter how friendly they were. 

"You miss 'em?" 

Skitch looked away at that, back to his tablet. He picked it up, set it down, and thought about his family. He missed them, to be sure, but not nearly as much as he was sure they missed him. His yearning, after all, would end - while they knew they would live on, never to see him again. They'd hugged him tight as he left, his mother had wrapped every arm she had around him and had squeezed so tight that her claws had dug in, just a little bit. 

"Sorry," Orange said, and once again Skitch found himself forced from his thoughts. He looked to Orange, who continued. "It's really hard, I get it. My son's all I've got, and even though he knows my job's important, it's hard to leave him. He always cries," and that time, Orange looked away, his helmet turning towards the opposite wall. 

And even though he knew he _shouldn't,_ Skitch kicked the wall lightly with a foot and lifted his hand to ask more about Toby. Before he could get a word out, though, Orange jumped to his feet and tensed, looking around the room wildly. Skitch looked around as well, bemused at what had startled the human so. When Orange moved slightly closer to Skitch, the Impostor almost asked what was wrong. He was thankful when Orange spoke before he could. 

"What the hell is going on with the lights?" Orange asked, "I can't see shit." Skitch dropped his hands at that, his skin prickling at how close he'd just come to setting himself apart. Now that Orange mentioned it, Skitch could tell that their surroundings were slightly less bright - but beyond that, it looked the same as ever, to him. 

Humans didn't have good dark vision, it seemed. 

"It's no good, I can't finish these wires like this," Orange said, shoulders lifting with a huffy breath. "I guess we'll wait and see if they come back on -" 

"Black, Orange." Skitch turned in place, nearly knocking helmets with Trep, who was suddenly just behind the pair. Orange was far less subtle - he turned as well, and then jumped violently when he spotted Trep. 

"Cyan?" Orange asked, clearing his throat as he obviously tried to regain his composure, "what's going on? Does the Captain know about the lights?" 

"Yes, he's aware. He's there attempting to fix them now - he wanted me to fetch help. As I know Black has a talent for systems, you were the first two I thought of," Trep answered. 

"Ah, well, Let's go then," Orange said, glancing at Skitch, who gave the human a nod. Trep stepped aside and let Orange and Skitch move past him - although for a second Skitch stopped, the two Impostors making something like eye contact through their helmets. For a heartbeat, Trep looked towards Orange, who was still walking away. Then, finally, he shrugged and turned to follow the human. Skitch hurried slightly to return to Orange's side, something pickling uncomfortably along his skin. 

The trio moved slowly - Orange practically had to feel his way along, and the two Impostors had to pretend to be doing the same. Skitch saw Lime coming at a sprint down the hallway, but warning Orange would have given Skitch away. Instead, he had to grimace as the two humans collided, sending them both to the ground. Someone’s helmet clacked against the ground, and Skitch hoped whoever’s it was hadn’t hit their head as hard as it sounded.

"Lime?" Orange groaned as he pushed himself up, "where are you going?" 

"Sorry Orange," Lime responded, getting to her feet with a grimace of her own. She walked over to her fellow human and held a hand out, helping Orange get to his feet. "I couldn't find anyone, so I was heading to the cafeteria, see if folks were gathering there -" 

"Where were you when the lights went out?" Trep interrupted. Startled, Lime looked towards him - and only seemed to notice Skitch just then, too. 

"Oh, hey guys. I was in storage. White and I both were, but I couldn't find them once the lights went out. I don't - I don't know where they went -" 

"You would have come past electrical then," Trep broke in again, crossing his arms as he spoke, "you didn't even look there? Seems like it'd be the first place to check when there's an electricity issue."

"I didn't think to - I just wanted to find someone," Lime said, her shoulders drawing up a bit as she spoke. 

"Right. Well, you might as well come with us. The Captain is already there, working on the lights. We're going to help him," Trep said, gesturing with a hand as he continued to walk. Orange went to follow, pausing only to give Lime a bracing squeeze on the shoulder as he passed her. Skitch heard Lime sigh before following as well - leaving him to bring up the back. 

The sight waiting for them in electrical didn't much surprise Skitch. Still, even he had to glance away from the disemboweled corpse of their captain. Red was still facing the fuse box, although his lower half was twisted about - Skitch could see his spine, clearly snapped through the gore that was once the human’s gut. 

Trep's response was a soft, but angry "Fuck." Lime gasped, her hands coming up to cover her helmet, as if she'd put them over her mouth if she weren't masked. Orange retched and spun violently away, holding out a hand as if to brace against the wall, but finding Skitch instead. The Impostor stood still as the human pressed a warm hand against his abdomen, watching as Orange managed to compose himself - or, at least, managed to avoid vomiting within his suit. With a shuddering breath, Orange began to straighten. When he realized he'd been braced against Skitch, he pulled his hand away as if it'd burned. 

"Sorry," Orange muttered, tucking his hand to his chest. Skitch nodded at him and rubbed slightly at the spot the human had touched. 

A sudden scream signaled the arrival of the rest of the crew. Skitch turned his head to look, watching as the rest of the humans arrived, saw Red's body, and reacted. Their noises gathered and grew, until there was a mix of panicked babbling, furious yelling, and even a smattering of accusations and terrified denials. Pink even pushed through the group to hurry to the Captain's side, where they pressed their hands right into the gaping, bloody wound and demanded that someone help them. No one paid them much mind, too caught up in their own conversations to notice. 

All at once, Trep grabbed Lime by the neck and practically slammed her against the wall. The sudden violence cut through the noise like a knife, and the humans froze in place, going quiet and still. White stepped forward as if to rush at the duo, but stopped when Skitch held up a warning hand. 

"You did this!" Trep snarled, voice echoing down the silent halls _._ To Skitch's ears, Trep's anger made him sound as if he were losing his hold on his humanity. As if he might let loose his claws and tentacles right then and there. 

An impressive act, given there was no doubt Trep had been the one to kill Red. 

"What?!" Lime asked, voice cracking under the weight of her objection. "I already told you -" 

"Yes, that you'd run right past here on your way to 'try and find someone,'" Trep interrupted, before looking over his shoulder at the others, "she said she didn't even think to look in electrical. Yet here you all are, as though that's the _first_ place a crewmate would think to look."

"I was with White!" 

"That's true," White added, gripping his hands together tightly, "she's been with me every day -" 

"Until the lights went out, right?" Trep asked, and at that White grimaced back, his grip tightening. "Then you lost sight of her."

"Well yeah, but -" 

"Where'd _you_ go, White?" 

"I was uploading data to headquarters - I didn't want to walk away and risk losing all that time. It was so close to finishing."

"So, you didn't just vanish, then," Trep said, his voice gone cold as he looked back towards Lime. "If White hadn't left his post, why couldn't you find him?" 

"It was really fucking dark! I panicked, I hate the dark -" 

"You took your shot," Trep interjected once more, "you went to electrical - maybe you hoped you'd find someone alone. Or maybe it was luck. But you found the captain, and you killed him -" 

"But _why?"_ Orange broke in, stepping towards the two, "why would she kill Red? Why would anyone?" 

"Good question. Lime?" Trep practically purred. 

"What about you?!" Lime exclaimed, pushing against Trep. He stepped back - minimally, well within range to grab her again - and crossed his arms. " _You_ were Red's partner! Your insistence on blaming this on me is pretty suspicious, Cyan! Maybe you're just trying to keep the blame off you!" 

"She's got a point," Brown said, pushing forward to stand next to White. "If anyone was well set up to do this, it's you, Cyan."

"He came and got Orange and I, to help," Skitch said, snapping his fingers first to get the crew's attention, "if he did this, why would he come to get anyone? Seems like it'd be better to go elsewhere and pretend like you were never here at all."

"You know how a killer thinks, huh?" Lime snapped, pointing a finger at Skitch, "maybe it was you!" 

"Black's been with me the whole time!" Orange exclaimed, "the whole time!" 

"So, what, you're covering for him, then?" Lime shot back. 

"Stop it!" At the sudden cry, the entire group went still. Pink - their entire body trembling violently - was staring at the rest of them, bloodsoaked hands curled at their side. "What is wrong with all of you? Why are you jumping right to blaming each other? Why that, instead of any number of possibilities -" 

"Like what?" Trep asked, "this doesn't exactly look like an _accident_ to me."

"This ship has been used on numerous missions," Purple spoke up, grimacing when attention shifted to her. "It always undergoes thorough inspection, but if something was hiding deep in its bowels…"

"You think - what, we have an alien hitchhiker or something?" Brown asked, their voice trembling slightly. 

"It's not out of the realm of possibility," Purple answered, "we know plenty of life is out there. If there was something malicious hiding on one of those planets, it could have snuck aboard."

"It's gotta be more likely than one of _us_ doing it," Pink agreed, " _think_ about it, you guys. The lights went off - that couldn't have been a coincidence. Lime, you were with White until then. Cyan, you and Red came here _after_ it happened. The easiest way to cut the lights is _from_ electrical - and none of us were here."

"So if something was lurking here, just waiting…" White said, sounding grim. 

"It might still be here," Trep finished. He charged past Pink, pulling a flashlight from his hip and snapping it on. The rest of them bundled in behind, most shying away from the body to their left. Trep swept his flashlight over the rest of the tiny room, with nothing to be found. Except for a vent in the corner, its hinge slightly out of place. Trep let his light rest there, while the rest of the human crewmates seemed to draw a breath as one. 

"Something's in the vents," Orange said softly, and Skitch wondered if the human even realized he'd grabbed the black-garbed Impostor's arm. 

"Can we flush it out?" Brown demanded. 

"Not a chance - we can't risk heating or cooling the ship enough to make a difference," White answered, "and none of us could fit in there."

"Then what do we do?" Orange asked, "we can't just leave it to hurt someone else."

"What we _can't_ do is be divisive," Pink said, "we need to have each other's backs."

"And we need weapons," Trep added, "Listen everyone, here's what we do. We'll go as a group to weapons and arm ourselves there. There are nine of us, now - we split into groups of three. In the meantime, we alert headquarters, and let them know what's going on and wait for their guidance. I doubt they want us just flinging ourselves back into Earth's atmosphere if there's a chance we're harboring something dangerous on board. In the meantime, we keep our eyes peeled, keep the ship running, and watch each other's backs."

"Who made you the new captain?" Lime asked sharply. 

"Do you have any better ideas?" Trep shot back. Lime tensed, it was clear she wanted to argue more - but after a few seconds she huffed and looked away. 

"That's what I thought. Let's go. Whoever's with me can help me clean up, after we're armed," Trep said, turning to lead the group away. 

Skitch couldn't help but be impressed when the crew followed. 

* * *

Orange was sitting on a cot, staring down at the ground, his whole body curved and his shoulders up against his helmet. Skitch lingered in the doorway, watching and hesitating. He needed to move on - it was a good time to find Trep. Talk about what happened - decide what would happen next. Skitch almost had himself convinced, was just going to walk away, when he heard Orange take a deep, badly shuddering breath. When it caught at the end with a soft sob, Skitch knocked on the doorway, and then headed into the room as Orange's head shot up. 

"Oh. Black. Sorry, we need to - still gotta go empty trash, right?" Orange asked, his voice wavering as he spoke. 

"I can take care of that," Skitch answered. He stopped a foot or two away from the human, found himself rocking back and forth on his feet. "You aren't well," he added after a long pause. 

"Are you?" Orange asked incredulously and then, after a pause of his own, repeated with far less certainty, "are you?" 

“I am…” Skitch hesitated as he searched for the right word, “unnerved.” 

“Unnerved. You’re unnerved,” Orange repeated, before tucking his head back into his hands. “You’re unnerved, and here I am feeling _unglued._ There’s something in the vents? It killed our Captain?” He took another shaky breath. "It'll try to kill again, right? What if it comes after us? I don't - holy shit, Black," he looked to the Impostor again, "I didn't sign up for _aliens._ I don't want to die!" 

"You won't," Skitch said, and then immediately froze in place. It was as if his hands had moved without his permission - spelling out a promise he couldn't possibly keep. Of course Orange would die. All of the humans would, one way or another. That was the plan. That was the _point._

"How can you know that?" Orange asked, and even though the question was sharp, Skitch didn't miss the hope behind it. The searching tone that hoped Skitch knew something Orange didn't. Which he did, of course, but that knowledge would do the opposite of helping Orange. 

"We're armed, now," Skitch answered instead, "and we'll have Pink with us. Whatever this threat is, I doubt it can handle three armed people at once." Either of them could if necessary, but once again that wasn't something Orange needed to know. 

"What if it gets us in our sleep?" 

Barely registering what he was doing, Skitch sat on the edge of the same bed as Orange. The truth was, he had no idea what to say to the human. He didn't expect they'd resort to picking the humans off while sleeping - but it wasn't out of the question. Besides, even if not, how could Skitch reassure the human of that, without giving himself away? 

"Sorry," Orange muttered, "I know you...you don't have any more answers than I do. I just can't…" He held his hands in front of him, and only then did Skitch realize how badly the human was shaking. "Am I just weak for feeling so scared? What's wrong with me?" 

Skitch stared at the man's hands for another second and then, after a glance around to be sure they were really alone, he reached out and clasped one of Orange's hands. The human started and pulled his head up to stare at Skitch. Skitch just shook his head, then laid Orange's hand carefully on the human's lap. 

"There's nothing wrong with you," Skitch answered, "it's only natural to be afraid when being hunted. Especially after what we saw in electrical." Orange just nodded, the movement minute, and looked back towards the floor. They sat there for a few long minutes, Skitch studying the human who seemed to be studying the floor. Then, with a breath, Skitch got to his feet - immediately drawing Orange's attention. 

"Wait - Black?" At Skitch's questioning stare, Orange continued, "will you - you'll stick with me, right?" 

"All the time?" Skitch asked, mind already flipping on itself trying to figure out how that would work. They didn't even sleep in the same quarters, and any effort Skitch made to change that would surely catch Trep's attention - 

"Oh, uh, no. Um. Of course not. We couldn't, huh? That'd be…that'd be impossible. We have to sleep and we can't just…change rooms." For a second, Orange seemed to lose his place. "I guess I just meant, during the day. For our tasks. I know sometimes it's a pain, when they're across the ship from each other, but I'd…if we could stick together…"

"Of course we will," Skitch said, hesitating for a second before continuing, "we're buddies, aren't we?" 

"Yeah. Yeah, we are. Thanks, Black," Orange said, and for the first time since their conversation started, Orange's shoulders relaxed. 

As Skitch walked away, he found himself thinking. Again. He'd known as soon as Orange asked that he wouldn't be able to watch over the human constantly - yet, when he'd thought that was what Orange was asking, Skitch had jumped immediately to how to _make_ it possible. Unbidden, as if it were the obvious sequel to those thoughts, Skitch imagined Orange in Red's place. Orange, slain and left to bleed - Orange, another body for the Crew to find, reduced to another pawn in the Impostors' game. 

For just a moment, Skitch had to grab the wall to steady himself, the image rolling in his gut. Dread swelled right along with it, when all at once Skitch knew one thing to be true. 

He couldn't let Orange die. 

No, he realized, wrapping an arm around his middle and clutching tight, he _wouldn't._


	4. Blackjack

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Humans change their scents on purpose, sometimes. Skitch would have appreciated a warning about that ahead of time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Slight content warning for...real mild kink discussion, I suppose.
> 
> I think I'm gonna bump the rating on this up a bit. I'm not planning on anything getting explicit by any means, but between violence and the possibility of these two pushing things further than I expect, I'll feel better with a slightly higher rating. Please be mindful of that!

"Black, I can see your cards again." Pink was amused as they looked away from Skitch, giving the Impostor a chance to adjust his hands. Again. Meanwhile, Orange chuckled, and Skitch felt his ire rise. It wasn't his fault that he was so bad at the card game - without seeing their faces, Skitch couldn't even begin to guess when the humans might be lying about the cards they'd placed down. For some reason though, despite the fact that he didn't even  _ speak,  _ despite the fact that they didn't even know he  _ wasn't human  _ \- the humans were extraordinarily good at detecting when Skitch was lying. Which meant that, over the course of this game of 'Bullshit,' Skitch had been forced to pick up a massive collection of cards. 

Skitch hadn't even wanted to play the game - but his human crewmates had insisted, and he'd convinced himself that it'd be far more suspicious to say no. Had further told himself that it'd be easier to keep an eye on them both, if he stayed with them. Now, though, he was cursing his past self. He should have insisted on sleep, on a leftover task - anything to avoid the torment of human card games. 

An ace tumbled from his fumbling fingers and with a hiss more inhuman than he'd intended, Skitch slammed his entire hand onto the table. Recognizing that he was acting like a child, but caring little, Skitch crossed his arms and leaned back from the table. If looks could kill, his glare would have surely disintegrated the offending cards. 

"Alright, time out," Orange said and, despite Skitch's tantrum, the human still sounded like he was laughing. Growing quickly embarrassed as well as irritated, Skitch made to stand, stopping only when Orange snatched his sleeve. 

"Hang on, Black. I'm sorry, look, I just didn't expect you of all people to get pissy just because you're losing a game," Orange said and, at that, Skitch settled himself back on the bench of the table. Sharply, he began to sign back. 

"It has nothing to do with  _ losing.  _ I can't hold these damn cards -" 

"Doesn't your family play games, Black?" Pink asked, tilting their head slightly as they studied him. 

"Not like this," Skitch responded, "not with  _ cards." _

"And here we've been laughing at you," Orange said, and the genuine apology in his voice ripped through Skitch's guard like a knife. The Impostor's shoulders dropped as Orange continued. "Here, let me show you a trick. This is what I do when I have too many cards." With that Orange scooted over until he was sharing the bench with Skitch, their thighs pressed together as Orange leaned in close. 

Orange was doing something with the cards, organizing them in some way that was meant to make them easier to hold. Skitch wasn't paying any attention, though, because he had been utterly distracted by Orange. Or, to be more specific, Orange's scent. 

Skitch had no idea how he could have missed it until now, but the human's scent was nearly  _ divine.  _ It made his fingers tingle, made his heart speed. Skitch had no words - in any language - to appropriately describe it, though that didn't stop his mind from trying. He realized, as he sniffed, that it wasn't an entirely unknown smell to him. He'd scented similar on other human men - cologne, he knew that word - but never had it been entrancing. Never had it smelled so nice. He leaned closer and took another sniff, wondering if Orange had always worn the scent, or if this was something new. 

"Black? Did you hear me?" Orange asked, leaning back a bit. Suddenly horrified, Skitch realized he  _ hadn't  _ heard the human - worse, the way Pink was suddenly very interested in their cards made Skitch realize his sudden infatuation had not gone unnoticed. Even through their visors, Skitch could tell Orange wasn't really meeting his eye. Pressure he couldn't quite describe built up in his chest, until he pushed away from the table and got to his feet. Not looking at either human, Skitch turned and walked briskly away - ignoring the way Orange called after him. 

He found himself in security a short time later. He paced the small room, the door firmly shut and the cameras trained on the hall right outside of the cafeteria. To make sure no one was coming his way, of course, and for no other reason. Never mind that despite his agitation, he kept glancing towards the screens, afraid to see a Cyan blur pass by on its way to the cafeteria. 

As if sensing his thoughts, there was the sudden and telltale sound of metal on metal in the corner of the room. He shot Trep a glare as the other Impostor's head cleared the vent - sans helmet, so Skitch could fully see the shit-eating grin the other wore. Trep leaned forward, rested his arms on the ground, and lifted an eyebrow in the face of Skitch's obvious ire. 

"I don't know what you expected," Trep said, "you should really be trying harder not to get attached."

"I'm not attached." Except he was. Helplessly. Even now Skitch could only think of Orange, of the scent - Trep couldn't know that. He'd never  _ understand.  _

"Fine, then I was thinking the pair of them would be a good next target. If we work together, it should be easy enough -" 

"Orange is off limits," Skitch snapped, before he could even try to catch himself. At that, Trep's eyebrow rose even higher. After a tense second, his expression fell, the humor draining away. 

"I didn't realize how bad this had gotten," Trep said, pushing himself out of the vent entirely and standing. "You're more than attached.  _ Worse  _ than attached. Do you even hear yourself right now? Off-limits? None of them are off-limits. They're  _ humans.  _ We're here to  _ kill them." _

"I know that."

"Do you?" Trep asked, stepping closer still. Even though Trep was shorter than Skitch, it was clear he was trying to intimidate the other Impostor. Unimpressed, Skitch glared right back and they stood like that for a long minute before Trep all at once sighed and backed away. "Skitch," He continued, and he seemed calmer now, "I get it. Red wasn't a bad conversationalist, you know? Not a bad person. None of these humans are bad people, really. It's not about these humans, though. It's about the billions of others that exist on Earth. It's about the ones that will come, if they find our home. They'll come, and they'll destroy it, and we'll lose everything. You remember that, don't you?"

Skitch felt his own shoulders fall, and his hands felt sluggish as he responded. "Of course I do. It's practically all I think about."

"When you've not got your nose stuffed up against that human of yours, anyway." At that, Skitch shot Trep another look - but when he saw the humor that had softened Trep's face, he felt himself relax too. "Look, this is up to you. If you wanna keep your human around awhile, fine. He's a good alibi for you anyway. But if you think this is going to cause more trouble…"

"It'll be fine," Skitch said, shaking his head, "do you really trust me so little?" Trep stared at him for a long moment, before finally shaking his head, the movement still somehow hesitant. Skitch felt a bit of his tension release at that, even while some small part of him felt guilt at the lie. At Trep's trust. 

"No," Trep answered after a second more, "you've never been anything but competent. Just be  _ careful,  _ would you? Play is one thing - just be sure that in the end, you're ready to do what needs doing."

Skitch nodded, but before he could respond any further, the sound of footsteps caught his attention. He looked quickly towards the shut door, but Trep was already moving for the vent. 

"I'm gone," Trep said, signing instead of speaking, "just remember what I said, Skitch." And, with that, Trep ducked into the vent and silently closed the hatch behind him. There was a knock on the door only a few seconds later. 

"Black? You in there? You okay?" It was Orange, and Skitch felt a bit as if he'd just jumped from the frying pan right into the fire. Giving Trep a moment to get further away, Skitch made his way to the door lock and rested his hand against it, bracing himself as the door opened with a  _ shick.  _

"Oh thank God," Orange said, resting a hand over his chest, "I was worried you might have been attacked or something. I know you were - Black, you really shouldn't go off alone, you know. After…"

"I know. Sorry," Skitch responded, stepping back to let the human into the room, "I'm alright, though. No sign of any issues. I've been watching," He added, gesturing at the screens. Orange nodded as he stepped into the room. For a second, he looked towards Skitch, and then looked away, lifting a hand to rub at his neck. Skitch studied the human, confused at his apparent discomfort - wasn't Skitch the one who ought to be uncomfortable? 

"I'm sorry," Orange suddenly blurted, "I didn't mean to make it, uh, to make it weird. I wore that on purpose. That cologne, I mean. I'd hoped you'd notice. Although I thought, with the helmets - I didn't realize you'd like it that much or that, um, Pink would be there when you noticed. I'm sorry."

"You," Skitch paused, trying to understand, "you made yourself smell good on purpose? For me?" It'd worked, Skitch couldn't deny that - but he didn't understand  _ why.  _ Orange wasn't very forthcoming, either. He simply nodded and looked even further away. This thing about scents, Skitch decided, must be a human thing - so well known in their people that Orange didn't think it needed further explanation. Skitch scrambled, trying to decide how best to respond without othering himself - even as he tried to decide how he  _ wanted  _ to respond. Finally, he stepped closer, catching Orange's attention. 

"Can I smell it again?" Skitch asked, his hearts fighting for a place in his throat. His conversation with Trep - which had seemed so important only a moment ago - was pushed to the back of his mind, forgotten entirely in this new pursuit. He wanted Orange to say yes, wanted all at once nothing more than the chance to inhale that scent again. 

"Uh-huh," Orange agreed, the noise catching in his throat. Then, he reached up, flicked the clasps of his helmet, and pulled it off. Even through his own helmet, Skitch was suddenly overwhelmed by the same scent as before. He stepped forward again, flinching only when Orange's hands went for Skitch's own helmet clasps. Immediately, Orange pulled his hands away. 

"Sorry!" Orange said, and the squeak in his voice went straight to Skitch's hearts. There was a second - a brief, brief second - in which Skitch tried to push the feeling away. Tried to regain some semblance of normalcy. Tried, desperately, briefly, to remember his mission. Then, as if outside of his own control, he reached up, unclasped his helmet, and all but threw it to the side. He snagged Orange by the shoulder and tugged the human close, wrapped his arms around Orange, then pressed his nose deep into the crook of Orange's neck. 

The scent flooded his body - and not only that of the  _ cologne  _ that Orange had chosen. He had his own beneath it, something unique, and it mingled with the cologne until it was an ambrosia to Skitch's entire system. He breathed deep, sending another wave coursing through his body.  _ How  _ had he never noticed it before? How had this scent eluded him for so long? He clutched onto Orange a little tighter, distantly heard the human say something - but there was no resistance, no pushing, so Skitch ignored it in favor of another breath. 

Skitch let his tongue dart out, just a little. He just wanted a taste, just to see if it was anything like the scent. Forgetting, for just a second, how sharp the appendage was. Forgetting, in that moment, to pretend. 

_ That was blood.  _

_ Fuck.  _

"Fuck!" At Orange's matching exclamation, Skitch jumped violently away from the human, clasping a hand tightly over his mouth. He stared, every good feeling in him washing away in a riptide of horror. He watched distantly as Orange lifted a hand and touched his neck, and now it was panic. He'd cut Orange. He'd cut him with his tongue. His obviously non-human, razor-sharp tongue. The humans already suspected there was a creature on board, and now Orange would point at him, and either he'd be killed or Orange would be - or they both would be, Skitch for being an Impostor, and Orange not long after when Trep finished off the ship. Skitch's mind was doing circles, trying to find an answer, any answer, wondering if he could frame a different human so at least Orange might be spared for awhile - 

Orange started laughing. The sound was so unexpected and foreign to the moment that Skitch froze, his thoughts coming to a screeching halt. He stared at the human, wondering if Orange had somehow lost his mind. 

"Did you really just bite me?" Orange asked, but the laughter in his voice didn't sound concerned, or scared, or even angry. Confused, maybe. Amused, to be sure. "I gotta say, Black, I didn't take you for the kinky sort." 

_ Kinky.  _ It took Skitch a minute to parse the word, but once he understood, he felt himself flushing. 

Did humans really bite each other? As part of showing  _ affection?  _ They didn't even have all that many canine teeth. 

Orange looked over to Skitch and, as he studied him, the humor on his face slipped away. Orange frowned and lowered his hand before taking a step towards the Impostor. "Hey, you okay? It's fine, I'm not - I'm not upset. You just took me by surprise."

"I think I…took myself by surprise, too," Skitch admitted and, at his words, Orange visibly relaxed. The human laughed again - this noise softer, gentle. Unbidden, Skitch felt himself relaxing too. He nearly smiled - catching himself just in time to force his lips to stay pressed together. He let them curl, though, just a bit, hoping the human could read the emotion all the same. 

"So," Orange said after another few seconds had passed, "does that mean I should stop wearing this stuff?" 

"Why would you do that?" Skitch asked immediately, gut dropping at the thought of never smelling that combination of scents again. 

"Well, I wouldn't want you to get too distracted," Orange replied, and his eyes were  _ bright.  _ Skitch caught himself staring at them - vivid and blue, even with only the light of the monitors behind them. Dancing in mirth, amused at his own teasing. Skitch couldn't look away - he wasn't sure he could even breathe. 

"I like it when you distract me," Skitch said, signing once more before he even knew he was doing it. 

Orange's answering grin was blinding. 


	5. Air

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another murder, and Skitch can't breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Content warning for blood and gore.

The crew sent a _lot_ of data back to Headquarters. It was Skitch's least favorite daily task to watch - first, someone had to download the data from multiple computers around the ship to one primary device. That took time. Then, they had to upload that same data back to Headquarters - a process that took even longer. It was tedious, but given the process's penchant for glitching and stopping without warning, it was necessary to stay and watch the whole thing. 

Skitch had finished a quick wire repair somewhere near fifteen minutes ago, and now he, Orange, and Pink were watching the upload as it ticked slowly along. Skitch nearly suggested they play another card game, if only to break up the monotony, which was how he knew he was out of his mind with boredom. 

The trio jumped violently as a cacophonous alarm suddenly ripped through the quiet of the ship. They each pulled out their communications devices, seeing the same message on each screen. 

ERROR, SENSOR MALFUNCTION - OXYGEN FAILURE IMMINENT. 

A diversion, Skitch was sure of it. They'd done so little, so far - if the crew were suffocated now, the humans below would never understand the warning. They'd write the issue off as a catastrophic malfunction. They'd send a new ship, more explorers - these were things Trep knew. Skitch just wasn't sure _what_ the plan was. Where would Trep strike? How? Was he counting on Skitch to do something instead? 

"You two go," Pink said, "I'll catch up the second this is done. It's nearly there - if I leave it now and lose this progress I'm going to be pissed."

"I don't know," Orange said, although Skitch didn't miss the way the human stepped for the door, "if that _thing_ is hunting again, you'll be alone…"

"Not for long. Besides, I've got this." Pink snapped away the cattle prod they carried on their belt and lifted it. "I'll keep a sharp eye out, and if anything comes it'll have to come through the door. Go." They paused, and there was humor in their voice when they continued, "Who knows if the others can manage to fix the sensors without you? They're probably fighting over it already." 

"Alright. Alright. Catch up as soon as you can. Keep an eye out. Be _careful,_ Pink, please. Black, let's go," Orange lingered for a second longer, staring at Pink, and then finally turned and bolted from the room. Skitch followed just as quickly, feeling more and more uneasy with every step they took. He slowed, hardly realizing he'd done it, and watched as Orange kept running. Unaware that Skitch had stopped. Safe. He would be safe. The group would be right around the corner and Trep hadn't seemed inclined to put an end to Skitch's 'fun' just yet. He wouldn't attack the group. Pink, though…

He barely heard the metallic sound from behind. Skitch didn't expect the rush of terror and the adrenaline that suddenly flooded his senses. He had to catch up with Orange. He had to be with the others. Even if he couldn't bring himself to do the damn job, the least he could do was stay out of Trep's way. He took a few more steps in the direction Orange had gone. It had to happen. For his home, and his family, and if he just kept his head down and let it happen maybe he could convince his fellow to let Orange live. 

The image of two human children came to mind, and Pink's mate, laughing in the background. Pink's declaration to their family - _love you to the moon and back._

Skitch spun in place and rushed back towards Communications. He nearly collided with Trep - who was already leaving Communications - and managed to stop just in time. Trep's cyan-colored suit was already drenched in blood, painted the same as the room behind him. Pink lay on the ground in two different places, messily severed at the waist, and Skitch could just imagine how it'd happened. Trep's tongue, splitting from his torso, sharp-tipped and deadly, cutting through the human in one swipe. 

Skitch stared at Trep, frozen in place by a maelstrom of emotions he couldn't possibly settle on. He wanted to hurt Trep - he wanted to follow him to safety. He wanted to stop the other Impostor - he was so acutely aware that Trep was the only one on the ship that Skitch could trust with _everything_ that he was. 

"Why did you come back?" Trep hissed, the frustration in his voice making Skitch tense further. When the blaring alarm cut off suddenly, Trep snarled under his breath. No longer waiting for a response, Trep grabbed Skitch's arm and yanked. 

Skitch surprised them both by digging in his feet and refusing to move. Trep froze, and they stared at each other for a long few heartbeats. 

"I can't protect you from this," Trep warned, before continuing away, leaving Skitch standing there, watching him go. Slowly, Skitch turned to look into the room, back to Pink's body. It would have been quick. 

Stars, he hoped it was quick. 

As footsteps approached, Skitch closed his eyes, trying to brace himself. Best not to run, not to try and hide - he'd be caught out, for sure, and look even more suspicious than he did. His hearts felt as if they stuttered in tandem when he heard a sudden, harsh breath from beside him. Orange. Of course it was Orange. 

"Black?" Orange asked, and the way his voice cracked, the way it shuddered, how it was full of terror and confusion and accusation - Skitch curled his hands tight at his sides. He had to _say_ something. He had to let Orange know that it hadn't been him - he hadn't _done this._ But he was frozen in place, scrambling for something and coming up with nothing. 

_"Black?"_ Orange sounded desperate now. When still Skitch couldn't bring himself to speak, he heard Orange talking into his communications device. The sound of rapidly approaching feet filled Skitch with freezing cold terror. 

* * *

"I was worried about Pink," Skitch said, focusing most of his attention on trying to sign through the shaking of his hands. "I went back - it seemed too dangerous to leave them alone. I knew Orange would be with the rest of you in a minute, but Pink…" He slapped his palms onto the table, ducking his head slightly. 

The entire crew was gathered around the table, the atmosphere heavy with grief and fear and blame. Trep sat across from Skitch, next to White who'd already vouched for the other Impostor. Skitch wondered how Trep had managed that - if Skitch weren't so caught up in himself, he would have been impressed. Of course, Trep's alibi didn't much matter - because no one was looking at anyone but Skitch. 

His eyes kept going to Orange. The man was drawn in on himself, his eyes downcast. He was sitting between Brown and Purple - had pointedly sat as far from Skitch as he'd been able to. He hadn't said much, yet - only what he'd seen. Who he'd found at the scene. He'd given his account with a flat voice, had never once cast specific blame on Skitch - had only said that Black had been there, and Pink had been dead. 

"There aren't any vents in Communications," Lime said, leaning forward a bit, "if it was something in the ship, how'd it get there so quick? How'd it get away?" She leaned back, crossing her arms, "it doesn't add up. Black was there, right at the body, it feels like serious stupidity to ignore what was in front of our eyes."

" _Look_ at him, though," White argued, gesturing at Skitch. The Impostor pulled his shoulders up, hating this feeling of being on display. On trial. "You saw the room, Lime. There's not a speck of blood on Black - how could he have done…done _that,_ and come out clean?" 

Because their saliva was highly enzymatic - Trep, after all, had managed to clean himself of blood and still make it back to the group quick enough to secure his alibi. Skitch kept that to himself, of course. He hated that he did. He should be telling them about Trep - should be trying harder to protect them. To protect _Orange._

Trep was his brethren, though. Skitch may not call him a _friend,_ but they were allies. They were each other's last line of defense against the failure of the mission. 

Didn't Skitch want the mission to fail, though? 

He clenched his teeth tight and gripped his suit in his hands. He had to decide. A better person would _decide._ Staying stranded in the middle made him a traitor to both sides of his turmoil. He had to decide. Orange, or home. Trep, or the humans. 

_He couldn't. He couldn't. He couldn't._

"There's a vent near Shields control," Purple said, catching everyone's attention. "Maybe it came from there, killed Pink, and escaped before Black got back."

"Why didn't Black _see_ it though?" Brown asked, "how'd he miss something big enough to do that to Pink?" 

"Black," White said, waiting until Skitch looked at them to continue, "how long was it? Before you got back to the room?" 

"A minute, maybe," Skitch answered, "give or take some."

"There's no way -" 

"Lime, _think_ about it," White cut her off, "Pink was slaughtered - _split in half_ \- in less than a minute. Quickly enough that they didn't even have time to scream. Orange, how long were you gone?" 

"I noticed Black was gone halfway through Storage," Orange replied, his voice still subdued. He didn't even look up. "You guys nearly had the oxygen sensors fixed by the time I got there. I went back almost immediately. I was only gone five minutes at most, and that may be an overestimation."

"I know how it looks," White said, their own voice going gentle, quiet, until the entire group was straining to hear them. "But it doesn't add up. If Black killed Pink - _how?_ How did he do it so quickly, how did he stay so clean when Pink was…was not. Just the other night, Pink was -" They paused, and when they continued there was a heavy catch in their voice. "Pink was telling me about how bad Black is at Bullshit. How he was a fair hand at Uno. They told me -" Another pause, and Skitch could feel the apology in White's look, "Pink told me how obvious it is that Black is enamored with Orange. How much Pink hoped they'd end up a couple. I can't…" They lifted a hand and touched their helmet, trembling. "I can't believe _any_ of you did this. But especially - especially not someone Pink called a friend."

Skitch hadn't killed Pink, but he'd let them die. He'd walked away, knowing full well it'd leave Pink a target. Pink had hoped he and Orange would 'end up a couple.' Instead, Skitch had let Pink die and now Orange wouldn't even look at him. He drew his shoulders up further, another tremble shaking his limbs. 

In the end, the group came to the conclusion that the evidence against Skitch just didn't measure up - although when Lime insisted they keep a close eye on him, no one disagreed. All the while, even while he voiced his agreement, Orange refused to look in Skitch's direction. When the meeting adjourned, the humans echoing their promises to stick close to each other, Orange got up and walked after Purple. As if sensing him, when Skitch made a move towards the human, Orange sped up. Skitch stopped where he was and let him go, eventually turning to follow his own set of crewmates to their quarters. 

* * *

It was late. Or, perhaps, early - the last time Skitch had seen a clock it'd been near three in the morning. He was sitting in Security, staring blankly at the screens as they flickered. Nothing to see, of course - the humans were asleep. Trep was playing at being asleep. Skitch hadn't been able to. Being so close to the other humans, being so close to Trep - it'd been like an itch beneath Skitch's skin that had built and built until, finally, he'd hopped up from his cot and left the room. 

Trep had glared at his retreating back. Skitch had ignored him. 

Movement on the cameras caught his attention and he sat up. It was Orange - the human was meandering down the hallways, ducking in and out of sight of the cameras. He was looking for something - or, most likely, someone. Skitch watched as Orange stopped, then looked up, making eye contact with the camera. More certain now, Orange moved again. 

He showed up in Security only a minute or two later. He lingered in the doorway for a few seconds, and Skitch couldn't bring himself to look over. He continued to stare at the screen, afraid to spook Orange. Afraid to look at him and feel his hatred. 

"Lime and Purple know I'm here," Orange said as he laid his hand on the door lock, causing the door to shut behind him. He didn't say anything else on that train of thought, but the insinuation struck Skitch at his core. He turned and stood, moving slowly, watching as Orange tensed but stayed in place. 

"I would never hurt you," He told Orange, _"Never."_

"Did you kill Pink?" Orange's question was demanding and harsh, his hands curling into fists as he asked. 

"No," Skitch answered, shaking his head. "I didn't - Orange you have my word."

"I want to see your face when you answer," Orange said, taking a step towards the Impostor. "Show me your _face,_ Black!" At the tone, at the insistence, Skitch flinched and took a quick step back. 

It was the wrong move. 

"Look me in the eyes!" Orange exclaimed as he fumbled at his own helmet. He ripped it off and threw it to the ground behind him. He glared at Skitch, who found himself pinned in place by those vividly blue eyes. Rimmed with red. Flush with tears. "Look me in the eyes and tell me again. Let me _see,_ damn you! _"_ Trembling, Skitch unfastened his own helmet, let it fall to the ground as well, and stared back. Kept staring, even as Orange walked closer. Only watched, until suddenly Orange's hands were at Skitch's lips and with a bolt of terror, the Impostor snatched them in his own. Clutched tightly to Orange's hands and mentally begged the human to walk away. 

"Let me see," Orange repeated. This time his voice was soft and wavering. Unwilling, unbidden, Skitch slowly let go of Orange's hands and dropped his own to his sides. Orange lifted Skitch's lips and immediately sucked in a harsh breath. Almost as quickly, he let go and stumbled away. Far, far away - until his back was against the wall. Skitch had thought Orange's anger and distrust hard to face - but his horror, aimed entirely at Skitch, was even worse. Skitch wanted to go to him, wanted to pull the human into an embrace and beg for forgiveness. But he knew if he so much as moved, Orange would bolt. He'd bolt, and that'd be it. So Skitch stood in place - trembling, shaking - and stared back at Orange. 

"Did you kill Pink?" Orange asked again, the words so soft that if not for Skitch's superior hearing he may have missed them. 

_"No,"_ Skitch answered and, for good measure, repeated the response. Once. Twice. Over and over until Orange spoke again. 

"Red?" 

"No."

Orange paused, letting tense silence fill the space between them. Skitch waited. Kept watching. Terrified of what would happen next. Almost wishing Orange would just get it over with. 

"Do you know who did?" At the question Skitch felt himself freeze. His own horror swept over him as he stared back at Orange. No. He had to say no. Or he could say yes. Maybe he could win Orange's favor if he gave Trep away. It could fix this - maybe it could fix this. 

His hands wouldn't move. 

Orange's breathing suddenly became labored. He gasped, and the tears already in his eyes began streaking down his face. Unable to resist anymore, Skitch took half a step towards the human. Orange flinched, and Skitch froze in place. 

"I trusted you," Orange said, and then repeated himself, the words becoming a mantra. 

_You_ can _trust me,_ Skitch wanted to say, but he didn't, because it was a lie, wasn't it? He took another step towards Orange as the human turned, but he went no further. Instead, he watched as Orange bolted from the room. Watched as his human left, off to tell the others, no doubt. Skitch mourned - for himself, for Orange, for the rest of the humans. Even for Trep - although he had no doubt the other Impostor would finish the job. It'd be easy for him - he'd ingratiated himself to the humans and, well, it wasn't as if Skitch had ever pointed a finger in his direction. He'd managed that much, hadn't he? 

He should have been proud of that. 

He wasn't, because his mind was filled with the images of Orange's look of betrayal. His terror. His hurt. 

Skitch decided to stay. He would stay in that room and wait for the humans to come to him. He wouldn't resist their decision - would wait and watch and stand at the barrel of the gun. He'd decided on this - had given up entirely.

But then, there was a bang in the vents, and Skitch's blood ran cold. 


	6. Weightless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In a moment of pure instinct, Skitch makes all the decisions that matter.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CW for blood and gore!

Skitch took off after Orange, the rushing in his ears practically deafening him to his surroundings. He didn't know where Trep would come out, but Skitch had to get to Orange first. He could just see the man's suit vanishing around a corner. They were through the engine, past one vent. But - 

Skitch saw them at the same time. Orange was just ahead of him, his path taking him near the doorway to Electrical - where Trep's form loomed. The cyan-suited Impostor lunged towards Orange and, with a snarl that ripped at his throat, Skitch lunged at Trep in answer. He struck Trep around the middle before the other Impostor could reach Orange, and the momentum took them both tumbling back into Electrical. Distantly, Skitch heard Orange shout in alarm. 

The two Impostors fell to the ground in a bundle of snarling limbs and snapping teeth. Every doubt, every ounce of guilt, every uncertainty vanished in a blink of an eye. There was no room for anything but instinct, now, and that instinct was screaming at Skitch to  _ protect.  _ To protect and to defend because Trep was fighting back and if Skitch let himself get distracted for even a second, Trep would win. He would win and he would kill Orange and Skitch couldn't let that happen. 

There was pain, in a vague sense of the word - but every new sensation only made Skitch's blood boil hotter. With every jolt of pain Skitch lashed out in return. He scratched and bit and tried to keep a hold of his foe, even as their bodies melded and changed and grew wet with some unidentifiable, cold slick. 

There was a sudden rush of nearly unbearable pain so great that for a second Skitch was forced out of his animalistic haze. He had no time to determine the source before there were teeth at his neck. When Trep began to bite down, a rush of adrenaline took Skitch right back under. He kicked out with both of his feet, their forms becoming something solid and heavy. He felt Trep's weight rip away and, following the movement, Skitch scrambled to hands and knees, spun in place, and lunged after his enemy. Skitch stretched his head out, let his teeth surge forward, and this time when they collided he was met with the feel of flesh beneath his jaws. 

He bit, and ripped, and tore, and somewhere in the midst of it all the tide of the fight changed. No longer was he fighting for purchase - he had it. His foe was no longer an enemy, but prey squirming in its dying throes in one last desperate attempt to escape the jaws of its predator. 

Skitch came to himself with a slab of flesh hanging from his maw. Trep's body was splayed out on the ground, alarm-red eyes staring sightlessly at something too far for Skitch to see. Trep's human form had long been exchanged for something shifting and unstable - although death had cemented it in place. He'd had a chest, though - or, at least, the place where a chest had been, before Skitch had ripped it apart. 

Skitch opened his mouth and practically spat away the flesh before he could give into instinct and devour it instead. He stepped back, away from Trep, and tried desperately to find normalcy in the human form he'd grown comfortable in. His body refused to listen - there were human feet and human hands but then with a ripple of overwhelming pain he was on hands and knees again, night-black skin and fur and scales rippling as they fluctuated wildly in his body's attempt to settle _.  _

What was wrong with him? 

"Black?" He almost didn't hear Orange, and even when he did he hardly recognized the squeaking voice. When Skitch turned his head to look, though, it  _ was _ Orange who stood in the doorway. He was staring at the scene before him, paler than Skitch had ever seen him. There was a splatter of something on his suit - Skitch recognized the reddish-brown smear as Impostor blood. When, he wondered, had Orange gotten close enough to be splashed by it? 

Skitch stared back at the human, wondering what Orange might be thinking. There was no emotion but shock on the human's face, and Skitch could hardly blame him. Nevermind the fight - Skitch could only imagine what it was like to see someone you assumed was human in a form that was decidedly  _ not.  _

Orange's eyes shifted. He was still looking at Skitch, but not at his eyes, not even at his face. There was a shift, then, some indecipherable look that passed over Orange's face. He went to speak - opened his mouth, even lifted a foot as if to take a step towards Skitch. 

Then there was the pounding of feet, the huffing of breaths, and the doorway behind Orange filled with more humans. All of them no doubt there to see what the racket had been. All of them freezing in place and staring just like Orange was. 

They were armed. Skitch tensed, slipped a little closer to the back of the room. 

"Black, wait -" Orange said, finishing his step towards Skitch. Immediately Skitch turned and, with speed no human could match, fled down the vent. 

* * *

Skitch was injured. He hadn't really realized it until he was safely tucked in the vents, but the awful pain from before had come from an injury in his side. Trep had gouged him there with his claws, leaving a gaping, ragged wound. It was bleeding freely, continuing to drench Skitch in more of his own, cool blood. Between his loss of blood, Trep's blood coating his body, and the metal of the vents, Skitch was freezing. He shivered and tried to pull his body in closer even as the edges of his form flickered. He was going to die there, tucked away in the vents of a human ship. He would die alone - without his family, without Orange, even without Trep. He took a breath, then went stiff, grinding his teeth as the breath brought a jolt of searing pain through every nerve of his body. 

He wasn't afraid, really. He didn't necessarily  _ want  _ to die, and could have done without the pain and cold that was worsening every second, but he wasn't afraid. It was one way to go, he supposed, and at least it meant he wouldn't have to look into Orange's eyes as the humans did it themselves. 

Shivering again, Skitch tucked himself a little closer, burrowed his face within his limbs, and allowed himself to drift. Every now and then a fresh wave of pain would bring him closer to the surface, but every time he pushed it away until he slipped under again. He only wished it would go a little quicker - he didn't want to feel so cold anymore. 

He was pulled violently from his stupor by a repetitive banging in the vents. He supposed it was a touch of delirium that made him wonder, briefly, if Trep had survived after all. 

Remembering the scattered, still beating hearts on the floor, he reminded himself that was impossible. 

Hands brought him back out of the daze he hadn't even realized he'd slipped back into. Hands on his face, lingering near his wound - Skitch opened his eyes, then squinted at the bright light filling the area. Before he could so much as grimace, the light went out, plunging him and his companion into the darkness. Or, in Skitch's case, the grayness. 

Vividly blue eyes stared at him. Orange had discarded his suit entirely and was lying in the vent in nothing but his underclothes and a plain white shirt. Even then, he looked uncomfortable - the vent pressed against him on either side, clearly too small for the human, and Skitch was just cognizant enough to worry the man might get stuck. 

"C'mon Black," Orange said softly, a hand still resting against Skitch's face, "let's get you out of here."

Skitch pulled away with a slight grimace, would have slunk further into the shadows if not for Orange grabbing his hand and holding  _ tight.  _

The appendage solidified in his grasp. 

"You're hurt," Orange continued, "and I know we don't know a lot about you but maybe we can help. Let us try, Black, please. For me?" And how could Skitch ever turn away from that? Even if it was a trick, even if the humans wanted his blood for themselves, Skitch would have walked to the end of the earth for Orange. Practically had, really. So he slipped a bit closer to the human, extinguished energy only getting him so far, and slumped.

Orange wrapped his arms under Skitch's own, his hold tight and secure and  _ warm. So warm.  _ For a moment in time, it was almost like Skitch had never been cold at all. Following the warmth, Skitch tilted his head back and tucked it into the crook of Orange's neck. He couldn't have said what form his face took, only that it seemed to fit perfectly in the spot. 

Orange's scent was still overwhelmingly  _ perfect.  _

They were moving - Skitch didn't really understand how, when Orange was holding him so tightly, but they were sliding slowly along the vent. It was painfully slow - literally, as each movement aggrevated Skitch's injury and brought a fresh wave of pain. But each was different then the last - black skipped about at the edges of Skitch's vision and with each bout of pain, it encroached a little further in. 

"Stay with me, Black," Orange muttered, "We're nearly there."

Even as his sight darkened further and his thoughts became flighty things difficult to grasp, Skitch wanted to laugh. Of course he would stay with Orange - why would he ever want to be anywhere else? 


	7. On the Mend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The crew has some decisions to make.

Skitch didn't remember losing consciousness entirely, but all the same it was a surprise to feel himself waking. It was a slow process - first an awareness, and then the sensation of something plush beneath him, and then finally sounds and scents and the hint of lingering pain. When finally he opened his eyes, it was to the stark white walls of the Medbay. 

He was prone in a bed, a chair at its side and the curtain pulled all the way around it. He was absolutely bundled beneath a collection of blankets - still cold, but considerably better than he'd felt in the vents. Skitch was also alone, he felt sure - there was no one visible and he didn't hear any discussion nearby. Curiously, he lifted a hand - when he saw his own clawed fingers and natural skin, he grimaced. With effort - great effort - he focused on changing his body back to the human mimic. 

It was a relief that it worked, this time. His body settled into its human form, and with a soft breath Skitch lowered his hand. Satisfied, he burrowed a bit further into his blanket pile, grimacing at the slight twinge in his side. Curious, he took a look - the wound didn't look _great,_ all considered. It wasn't openly bleeding any longer though, and Skitch could see the telltale signs of healing, even despite - or perhaps because of - the strange, slightly sticky substance coating the area. 

He would survive. He'd lived through his wound, through the cold, and had come out on the mend. He had saved the remaining humans and they had, apparently, helped to save him in return. Although he couldn't help but wonder again if it was only so they could have the satisfaction of killing him themselves. Or, even, for the opportunity to put him through their criminal system. A little more clear headed, Skitch was relieved that he'd have the strength to flee from either option. 

Footsteps drew Skitch from his pessimistic thoughts. He burrowed further still, pulling the blankets up until they were covering his head, leaving only his eyes peering out. There was a rustle as Orange ducked around the curtain - the human came to a stop as he and Skitch made eye contact. They stared at each other for a tense couple of seconds, before Orange pulled the chair closer to the bed and sat in it, his knees pressing against the edge. Close enough for Skitch to touch, if he wanted to - instead, he gripped the blankets a little tighter. 

"Hey," Orange said, his voice soft, "it's good to see you awake." Skitch watched him closely, watched as Orange clasped his hands together and stared back at Skitch in return. "How do you feel?" 

Hands required, Skitch slowly unbundled himself enough to slip them out from under the covers. Orange continued before he could respond. 

"Hey, you look…human, again," Orange said, "that's, uh, that's gotta be a good sign, right?" 

"It's promising," Skitch answered, "it takes energy, and I couldn't do it before." He paused. "I feel better."

"I'm glad," Orange said, "it was really touch and go, for a while. We had to use most of our stock of liquid bandage - you kept uh, breaking the stitches." That explained the strange substance coating his wound. Skitch nodded and studied the human as Orange fidgeted in place. He seemed…strained. He was pale, and the skin under his eyes was dark, and he wasn't quite looking at Skitch anymore but instead anywhere but, his eyes flighty as he looked around the room. Frowning, Skitch reached out and tapped the man's knee. He was grateful that Orange didn't start too badly. 

"Are you alright? You look…" Skitch hesitated, trying to decide which word was best, "ill."

"It's been a long few days," Orange admitted, lifting a hand and running it through his hair. "There hasn't been a lot of time for sleeping and, to be honest, I couldn't do it when I tried."

"I'm sorry," Skitch said, and he felt it like a heavy stone in his gut, "I'm _sorry._ I should have said something long before - after Red, I should have - but you have to understand, it didn't feel _right._ I was supposed to - _we_ were supposed to -" 

"I thought you were going to die," Orange said softly, stopping Skitch's rambling hands in their tracks. Nervous, Skitch let his hands linger and waited for the human to continue. "You were freezing, Black - almost painfully cold to the touch. You kept bleeding - kept _seizing._ Like you were possessed or something but then every time you stopped you'd go completely limp and every time I thought 'that was it.' Then you'd gasp and -" Orange got to his feet so quickly the chair scratched at the ground. He began to pace, took small steps back and forth, back and forth. 

"I couldn't leave. The others kept insisting - White was taking care of you, mostly, you know? They're no doctor but they have some practical experience and - everyone kept pulling me away. Wanting me to meet with them, to talk about what to do. Asking me to sleep - or at least rest. But I couldn't - everytime I tried I only stayed away until I just _knew_ you must have died while I was gone and then I'd come back and -"

"Why were you so worried?" Skitch asked, the second Orange's eyes were on him again. At his question, the human froze in place and stared back at Skitch as if the Impostor had grown two heads. 

"Because I care about you," Orange tried first and then, as if feeling Skitch's skeptical look, sighed and went back to his chair. He plopped down into it and held his hands helplessly out to his sides. "I do," he repeated, "but I also…" He paused, rubbed at his face with a hand, "I don't know what's going on. And I have a lot of questions." For a second, there was anger in his eyes as he looked at Skitch, though it faded almost as quick as it'd come. "I have…complaints. But I also have eyes, Black. You saved me. You saved me, even though I was clearly about to tell everyone what I'd just seen. Cyan was going to kill me, wasn't he?" At Skitch's nod, he continued. "You stopped him. Not only that, but you killed him - for my sake. I can't just turn you out after that. I don't - I don't _want_ to. I've been going over and over it all in my head, Black, and I'm angry. I'm still angry. And if there's any hope of that stopping, you're going to answer my questions. _Our_ questions. Honestly. But -" Orange paused again and glanced away, but not quick enough for Skitch to miss the watering in his eyes. "I thought you were going to die, and I was terrified. Maybe it makes me an idiot, but despite everything, I didn't want to lose you."

Skitch studied Orange, wishing not for the first time that he could cry too, because he'd have given anything to ease the awful clutching in his chest. He could hardly begin to parse through his own thoughts - gratitude that Orange was alive, relief that some part of the human cared for him, guilt over the pain and sleeplessness he'd caused Orange, and there, at the back of everything, a creeping guilt over what he'd done. That one, especially, he tried to push away - he'd done the right thing. He tried desperately to tell himself that he'd done the right thing. 

Skitch all but thrust his hand out towards Orange in an effort to push the thoughts away. His hand lingered there for a long few seconds while Orange looked at it in clear uncertainty. Then, finally, the human grabbed it - waiting only a heartbeat before threading his fingers in-between Skitch's. He tugged softly, and Skitch allowed himself to be partly pulled from his nest. 

They bumped their foreheads together, and Orange let out a long, soft breath. His grip on Skitch's hand tightened. 

"You're absolutely baffling," Orange muttered softly, and despite everything, Skitch felt himself smile. They sat like that for a long moment - Skitch wishing it'd never end - before Orange spoke again. "So then, was the biting an alien thing, or what?" In answer, unwilling to let go of Orange's hand, Skitch let his tongue unfurl from his mouth. He lifted it until it was visible at the corner of their eyes, then wiggled it, showing off the sharp-laced edge. 

"Oh," Orange said with a sardonic draw, _"obviously."_

* * *

Later that afternoon, Skitch found himself facing down what was left of the human crew. He'd explained everything to them - starting with what he was, why he was there, leading all the way to what, exactly, had happened between him and 'Cyan.' None of them had interrupted him as he spoke, which he was grateful for, as he wasn't sure he'd have been able to stop if he'd tried. Now, he was waiting while they stared and exchanged looks and considered - all the while Skitch's hearts were fighting for a spot in his throat. 

"They're not wrong," Purple finally spoke, a few of her crewmates flinching at the sudden voice. "Humans don't exactly have a clean record when it comes to new planets. Hell, think of what colonizers did on our _own_ planet. Can we really blame his people for getting antsy, after watching humans suck a planet dry?" 

"But _murder,_ Purple?" Brown asked. 

"I'm not saying it's okay. I'm saying it's…a hell of a lot more complicated than right or wrong. Look me in the eyes and tell me earth wouldn't do this exact same thing, if the roles were switched."

"We don't have to speak in hypotheticals," White pointed out, "the Space Force already exists, and their training is all about shoot first, ask questions later. Earth has been preparing to kill al - er, extraterrestrials, for far longer than these Impostors have. Just because we were the sorry souls targeted doesn't mean we throw a whole planet under the bus for just trying to ensure their own survival." 

"What do we do, then?" Yellow asked, "how do we explain Red and Pink? Let alone _Cyan?_ " 

"We use Cyan," Purple answered, "We already have a story, don't we? Something snuck aboard during a previous mission. It killed two of our crewmates before we caught and killed it. There's no reason to specify where he came from - there'd be no reason to think we even know."

"You guys want to lie?" Lime spoke up. She shifted uncomfortably when everyone looked towards her. "We all could have died - Red and Pink _did_ die. If there's a whole planet's worth of - of people who want to hurt us, shouldn't MIRA know about that? Shouldn't _earth?"_

"They don't _want_ to hurt us," Yellow argued, their eyes looking towards Skitch. "They want our ships out of their space - they want to stay undiscovered. Right?" There was visible relief in their stance when Skitch nodded. 

"I get where you're coming from, Lime," White added, "but consider what knowing the truth would do. Forget the Impostors for a moment -" They threw a quick, apologetic look Skitch's way, "think about humans. If earth found out that there was a hostile planet out there - one we could reach - who'd already killed two of our own? It'd start a war. And the victims would be a bunch of young recruits and - hell, _us._ Our friends. There could be consequences for years. It could lead to the destruction of our own planet, for all we know."

"So we leave our own people ignorant? What if the Impostors come to earth and start something first? Without warning, we'd be sitting ducks."

"They won't," Skitch interrupted, snapping for attention. "My people aren't warmongers - we're just trying to protect ourselves."

"Yours is the only word we've got on that," Lime retorted, "so forgive me if I'm not jumping at the chance to trust it!" 

"Okay. Enough. Just…enough," White said, rubbing at their neck with a soft groan. "We have time, the mission isn't over yet. We'll discuss it more and come to a consensus as a _team._ This certainly isn't a decision to make lightly. Or quickly."

Lime grunted softly in annoyance, but fell quiet as the rest of the group nodded. 

"What happens to me, now?" Skitch asked, once the silence had become too thick for him to bear. Almost immediately, he felt Orange latch a hand onto his shoulder and squeeze. The burst of warmth went a long way to soothing Skitch's frazzled nerves. 

"We didn't use up so many supplies on you, just to kill you now," White said, and there was something like amusement in their voice. "Besides, I think Orange would throttle us all before we could even try." They paused, then with a gesture continued. "Honestly, Black - there's no denying your role in this. And none of us are doing so. But there's also no denying that you've saved us all - and, now, you've been honest with us. I think - we _all_ think," He gestured at the others, and Skitch was surprised to see even Lime nodding, "that you've earned your safety with us, if nothing else. I might have suggested some sort of chaperone for you but, well, I don't foresee you and Orange being separated anytime soon anyway."

"That's it? Just like that?" Skitch asked, baffled. 

"Believe me, it wasn't just like that," Orange answered, "you've pretty much been the only thing we've talked about since we pulled you from the vent. That showed how bad off you were - you were out even through the screaming matches."

"You'd better watch your step, though," Lime added, crossing her arms, "I don't entirely disagree with the group's decision, but don't think that means I trust you." Skitch wasn't wholly surprised to see a couple of the others nod their own agreement - but he wasn't upset, either. He'd expected far more than distrust. Skitch nodded himself, and felt Orange squeeze his shoulder a little tighter still. 

The humans lingered for a few more minutes, but as usual were eventually ushered out by the awkward silence. White, at least, threw Skitch a quick 'get some rest, Black' before following the others out. In the end, it left Skitch and Orange. The Impostor lifted his hand and put it over Orange's, then gave the man's hand a squeeze. Orange let out a long, soft breath, and Skitch could feel tension bleed out from the human. He looked up at Orange and slipped his hand away to speak. 

"You need to rest," Skitch said, "I appreciate your watch, but it's okay now. Go get some sleep." 

"They're gonna be arguing again," Orange muttered. Skitch felt his skin tingle when Orange began to rub his hand softly back and forth over Skitch's shoulder. He wasn't sure the human even realized he was doing it - but Skitch wasn't about to point it out. "Besides, I…" Orange's hand stilled again, and he squeezed, and he wouldn't quite meet Skitch's eyes until the Impostor touched his arm softly. 

"You can sleep here, if you want," Skitch said, his hearts pounding in his ears. He waited for the human's response, tried to brace himself for what he felt was inevitable rejection. If the discomfort at least drove Orange to finally go and get some rest, it'd be worth it. Nevermind how much Orange's refusal would sting, Skitch would be fine, the human's well-being was far more important - 

"Scooch over then," Orange said, slipping his hand away and gesturing at Skitch. Almost afraid he'd spook Orange off if he moved too quickly, Skitch carefully pushed himself over towards the other edge of the bed. As soon as there was room, Orange leaned over and unbundled the blankets. 

Then promptly crawled into the space next to Skitch. 

The Impostor held himself still - barely daring to breathe - as Orange settled in. He tucked the blankets around himself, further secured the ones around Skitch, then tucked his arms around Skitch's torso. With a long, slightly shaky breath, Orange rested his head against Skitch's shoulder. They laid there like that for a long moment, and Skitch could feel that Orange was nearly as tense as he was. 

"Are you sure this is okay? You seem uncomfortable," Orange muttered. 

His hearts skipping a beat, Skitch answered by turning just enough to wrap his own arm around Orange in order to tug the human closer. He pressed his face to the top of Orange's head and inhaled - the tension faded from him as Orange's scent flooded his senses. He heard Orange give a soft, breathy chuckle as he relaxed in turn. 

Orange wasn't awake for long, his exhaustion no doubt catching up to him. Skitch listened as his breathing evened out, heard even his heartbeat slowing into the steady pulse of human sleep. The sounds were soothing - and Orange's warmth was perhaps the most comfortable thing Skitch had ever experienced. 

Letting the sensations distract him from his own thoughts - which laid beneath the surface, threatening to rush forward if he gave them half a chance - Skitch hugged the human a little tighter still, closed his eyes, and allowed himself to drift. 

The rest would come - the good and the bad - but in the moment, none of that mattered. Skitch had Orange - and so long as that was true, there was nothing else in the universe he would ever need.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your love and support - I can't describe how much it means to me. That's it for this story! But I've attached it to a series, so there's room for me to keep writing these two in this timeline. The series is called Halloween Colors, if you'd like to follow it. 
> 
> I try not to make promises, as my motivation likes to fizzle out when I do, but I hope to upload more in the near future. If there's anything specific folks want to see, let me know! I love to gather OS ideas. 
> 
> Thank you again for your support. I hope you enjoyed the ending. ♥

**Author's Note:**

> BTW, I have a Tumblr where I always post links to my works. My interests are liable to change on a dime, but my primary interest is FNAF and, currently, Among us. If you're curious, come check it out!
> 
> http://pyroweasel.tumblr.com


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